You don’t thrive out here
Under the perma-sun
And when it rains it
pours-
But it doesn’t rain often.
The words fail
Within the rift of our
many languages
My heart trying to reach
across the void
To put a hand over a
shoulder
To if only to say;
“I too am only human.”
Here the wind burns.
Not only for the chapping
zephyr
That spins each day into
memory
Here the winds burn
Deep into the lungs;
Asphyxiating us in smog
Life is valued less here.
living by tooth and claw.
…And shotgun
They fight with words and
fists and groups of people with similar mindframes in regard to their
willingness to become violent
Learning to grow around it
Letting the tendrils of
ourselves creep through the minutia
Where so many of them are
just waiting for the tide to rise.
Tina binds
this place like tetanus
At night I see them walk
the streets like wraiths
looking for trash,
cigarette butts, spare change
sniffing out opportunity
in its rawest forms
like shadows become
animate while wearing hoodies
unconsciously searching
out their desires
she doesn’t give a shit
what she turns them into
we band together in our
struggle
we persist and we prevail
but we don’t thrive.
In this sphere of
influence that remains contained
Somewhere deep within
Behind layers of pollution
Beyond substance abuse and
neglect
out in the whipping winds
only wickedness takes root
